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Corrected version
| Open Poetry #31 |
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Corrected version |
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Jaime Fradera Senior Member
since 2000-11-25
Posts 843Where no tyranny is tolerable |
For The Rites TO Be Performed by Jaime Fradera I am back at the asylum, But this time it worked out much better. I'm having breakfast for the last day here. S, a woman with me, Who seems to be a girlfriend Or a staff member at the place, Urges me to hurry Because they are waiting to perform The graduation rite of passage, And she is coming with me. The ceremony is performed and I go home. Back in Austin it is morning. I am suddenly listening to music With strangers at someone else's house. K and her boyfriend m, Both unknown to me, are there. K is unusually attentive for a stranger. She keeps asking do I need anything, What music would I listen to, And is the sound too loud, too soft, just right? I am tired by the long trip from New York, So I tell her I don't care And that whatever she wants to do is fine. But K seems not to notice Doesn't seem to be deterred By my weary indifference. She keeps repeating the same questions .. Am I sure that everything's okay? ... I want to be left alone. I just want to go home. But someone else would have to drive me there, And the strangers in this strange house won't. It is night. K takes me to a special church Of which she is a member. Inside the special church there is a secret sect Of which she also is a part. The secret sect is to perform a sacred ceremony at which K is to officiate. The church is filled with solemn, silent people, All dressed up in their finery. The air is filled With the smell of incense and of burning candles. The atmosphere is one of reverence and of awe, For the rites to be performed this night Are holy. Together, arm in arm, K and I march slowly, Reverentially, to a ceremonial altar. When we have reached the front of the church She leaves me, and the ceremony begins. During the strange, mysterious ritual, I start to realize That the dream is coming to an end. I interrupt the ritual by yelling to K For her full name or her phone number, Because I'm about to wake up, So I can call her back Once I have reached the other side. But no one in the church Can hear me except her, And K is busy with some incantation, And at first she just ignores me. As the holy vision slips away I call out ever more insistently, alarmingly, For K's full name, for her telephone, Because I'm waking up ... I'm waking up ... Finally K shouts back to me: 3 9 2 ... 3 9 2 .. The prefix number At a school I once attended. This the entire congregation hears, And the spell of ceremony is sharply broken, And the church dissolves in incredulous confusion, Because the sacred rites Have been disrupted and profaned. And then my line to K is gone. But the wakening is false. It is the next morning, and although I am not there, I can somehow hear the scene In the office of K's supervisor. As I float, weightless, formless, Seeming to be nowhere in particular, I hear K's boss Call her in and tell her curtly To turn over her keys and that, Because of the sacrilege She has committed in the church, She is fired, As well as kicked out of her office, Kicked out of the special church That meant so much to her, The church Of which she had been a member For so long, And before she can even complain about it, She is dismissed. I feel a wave of remorse. She doesn't know I was a witness to her firing, But I'm sure she knows who's fault it was, And I just hope to God I will never, ever have To encounter her again. And then I'm at an unfamiliar university. I wander aimlessly, Unable to find where registration is. Suddenly K is there with me. She couldn't possibly have known that I would be here. Without words being exchanged, She indicates the way to me And then is gone. As I come out of registration, K suddenly appears again, With no words being exchanged, She directs me To the next point in the process and is gone. Here there are three doors Through which I have to pass. I enter the first door, And a barber is there To shave me and to cut my hair. I open the second door Which reveals a tiny compartment Where I'm supposed to leave my clothes. The space is tight and cramped and stuffy. I struggle to remove my clothes Peeling off endless layers Of sweaty, clinging fabric. I let the mass of fabric Fall tumbling to the floor. And I am already very tired. There is hardly enough space To open the inner door, And then I'm in a teeny tiny shower stall. I fumble for the faucet And do my best to bathe and dry myself, But can't do much of anything In the humid, stuffy space. There isn't room to breathe, No room to even dress myself. Suddenly K is standing With me in the shower. She couldn't possibly have known I would be in here. I wish I somehow could get rid of her. How could she have even gotten in here? I don't want a stranger To see me in this way, Pitiful, unable to breathed, Naked, drained, Unable even to dress myself, in this water-logged, suffocating crush. Without saying a word She helps me with the clothes, Back through the double outer doors where I can breathe, And then suddenly is gone. I can breathe, But I am also very hungry, Having not eaten Distracted by the day's ordeals. Now, it is night. I set off in one direction, Then off in another, But can not seem to find the cafeteria. I bump into a computer. It is already on And set up with JAWS for Windows. It is connected to a "chat room," And I can somehow hear The voices of people in the chat. I know I won't be using it And decide to turn it off, But I have to close A multitude of pages Until it finally powers out. And then, suddenly K is there ... again, And I cringe. She is wanting to say something, wanting to know something. Without words being exchanged, I know what she is thinking ... How she is out of work and out of money, And has to find another place to live. And I know what she's about to say---- That I lied when I told her I was waking, That I was disrespectful of her, Of the ceremonial mystery Through which she wanted to initiate me, That because I didn't care, because of me She was now stripped of all that meant so much to her, And that now she stood at the edge of destitution And homeless desperation, And it was all because I didn't care, because ... Then K takes my hand. Quietly, silently, As though by telepathic transfer, She tells me that I could not Have lied to her about awakening, Because I had only told her What I had thought to be the truth. She tells me I could never have broken ceremony In the church, Because no one in the room except herself Could hear or see me. And she tells me That even at times When I must live In the separate world of Wakefulness, She will never be more Than a heartbeat away, And it will be at night, and in my Sleep, That she will come to be with me. Now I understand the pointlessness Of trying to get rid of her. She passes through walls And security gates and through locked doors As though she were some spirit being, Even when no one else Can see or hear her except me. It is in silence that we say these things, Without speaking That we somehow know these things, And we embrace ... She doesn't know where the chow hall might be either. But we'll look for it together. And then I wake, in tears, For real this time, And remind myself again That for as long as I am living I will never be alone. Jaime |
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MGROVES
since 2004-02-01
Posts 3802california |
and remind myself again that as long as i am living i will never be alone i enjoyed this story. this is something i must remind myself daily. thanks for sharing   |
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Grover Senior Member
since 2004-01-27
Posts 1967London, ON, Canada |
Great work... whew!  |
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Kahlil Senior Member
since 2003-04-12
Posts 1881 |
Jaime...K is YOU. How I enjoyed this, so very much. I'm glad you've shared it. ~K~ (oh, that's funny!) |
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